


Waiting Around in Whitehorse

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Episode Related, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-03-18
Updated: 1999-03-18
Packaged: 2018-11-10 21:26:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11135010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: At Ray's request, Fraser recalls an evening he spent long ago in the company of the mysterious "Steve."





	Waiting Around in Whitehorse

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

 

Waiting Around in Whitehorse

In Jane's 1997 Due South novel, _Terms of Surrender_ , she mentions a chance encounter between young Benton Fraser, RCMP, and Steve Richmond, his friend and one-time lover, in a far northern city some time after the two had parted. I've always wondered what transpired that autumn evening when the 20-year-old Fraser, stranded by an early blizzard, was... 

# Waiting Around in Whitehorse 

**by**

## EvenSteven 

* * *

He was back, thank God. 

Fraser was back to being Fraser, and Ray could pinpoint the exact moment it had happened: when, having solved the mysterious "kidnapping" of jewelry store owner Clifford Darling, Ray and Fraser strolled through the gardens surrounding the Darlings' opulent house. The Mountie had come out with the Inuit story about the bride, the groom, and the walrus pelt, and inwardly, Ray rejoiced. And afterwards, all during the time he and Fraser were winding up matters at the 27th District Police Station in Chicago, Ray was considering how to celebrate. 

"Hey, Benny," he said after Sheila Darling and her co-conspirators had been booked on charges of attempted kidnapping and extortion, "why don't we go out to dinner tonight?" 

Fraser looked up from the paperwork he was filling out and smiled. Ray's heart skipped a beat: the warmth of that smile, the dimples curling at the corners of Fraser's beautiful mouth, the love-light in those blue eyes, belonged utterly to the _real_ Fraser, the one he'd started the day with, before the Mountie fell off the fast-moving car onto the road and suffered a concussion. "I'd love to have dinner, Ray, but do you suppose we could go to my place and order something in? I'm feeling a little tired." 

"Oh, sure, no problem." Ray's heart, already tender where Fraser was concerned, softened still further. After that fall and Fraser's subsequent stay in the hospital--short though it had been--and the excitement of chasing around Chicago trying to restore the Mountie's memory, not to mention the effort of solving the Darling kidnapping, it was no wonder Fraser was feeling exhausted. Since Ray was planning for the evening to end in bed anyway, starting off in Fraser's apartment would save the trouble of driving to and from the restaurant. 

An hour later the two men had finished most of a large pepperoni pizza with extra toppings and drained their glasses of iced tea. Diefenbaker thumped his tail approvingly against the bare floorboards, since he'd accounted for a good third of the pizza, and it was his favorite kind. Ray noticed Dief's questioning look at Fraser and prompted, "What's he trying to say, Benny?" 

Fraser dabbed his mouth with his napkin and bent a stern look on the wolf. "Yes, you can go out, but mind you're home no later than ten o'clock. You know I don't like it when you stay out late on a school night." 

"Dief's in school? Since when?" 

Fraser smiled rather self-consciously. "He doesn't actually go to school, but I like him to maintain good habits, Ray." 

Ray shook his head. There were many things he would never understand about his friend and lover. Could Fraser's relationship with Dief stem from a frustrated paternal instinct? Or was it simply a product of Fraser's (seemingly) life-long loneliness? 

_Well, he's not alone any more,_ Ray thought with tenderness, and smiled at Fraser, who began to blush. 

"Come here, Benny, I haven't kissed you all day and I'm starving." 

More blushes, but Fraser got up from the table and tilted his head in the direction of the bed. 

"Yes, absolutely," Ray said, "but first..." 

He took the man in his arms, reveling in the soft lips that parted eagerly to receive his own insistent tongue. God, Benny was an armful of heaven. Ray deepened the kiss, feeling Fraser growing hard against him, and at last took his mouth from his lover's. 

"Bed, Benny," he said, and his voice was thick from combined desire, relief that Benny had regained his memory, and impatience to make love to him. 

Within minutes they were undressed and entwined around each other, Fraser on top, since he had taken longer to undress than Ray. His habit of folding each garment neatly and placing it on the dresser before joining his lover on the narrow bed, drove Ray crazy with frustration that Benny was taking so long, and equally crazy with desire, because Benny's way of dragging out the preliminaries heightened his anticipation. 

They had been lovers for some weeks now, ever since the end of the Bolt trial, when their temporary estrangement had culminated in a reunion that was as remarkable for what it left unsaid as for the few expressions of sentiment they'd allowed themselves. 

"Don't get all mushy on me," Ray had warned the Mountie, and would have laughed at Fraser's look of pained surprise if they hadn't been in such danger at that moment. Later, recalling that look when he was alone, Ray permitted himself a smile. Fraser seemed to pride himself as much on his emotional restraint as Ray prided himself for letting all his emotions out, so to be accused of sentimentality was a reversal of circumstance for Fraser. 

But after that, they had gone back to spending so much time together that what happened next seemed as inevitable as the turning of the seasons: one night, leaving Fraser's apartment, Ray had found himself unable to turn his back on his friend and go down the stairs. Their gazes had met and locked, and wordlessly, each man read his own feelings mirrored in the face of the other: 

_I don't want to leave.  
_

I don't want you to go.  


I want to stay with you. I'd like to take you in my arms and kiss you.  


I want to hold you, touch you. I'm miserable when we're apart.  


I want more from you than just friendship.  


It's not enough to be friends any more, I want--why are we staring at each other like this?  


You know what? This silence has gone on way too long. Why aren't you saying anything? Is it because you can't?  


Ray, my friend, my love. Could you possibly...do you feel the same...?  


You're looking at me as if...as if you love me.  


And then Fraser had stretched out one arm and pulled Ray back into the room. 

With his back to the door, Ray had returned Fraser's intense look as they stood first six inches apart, then nose to nose; and then Fraser leaned forward, shut his eyes, and kissed Ray on the mouth. 

When he felt the brush of those long eyelashes against his cheek, an emotion compounded of incredulity and happiness, in about equal parts, swept through Ray: incredulity that love had come to him at last in the form of Benton Fraser, and happiness in the new-found knowledge that his best friend returned the feelings Ray cherished toward him. He wrapped his arms around Fraser's solid frame and kissed him back for all he was worth. Finally, the two of them had ended up in Fraser's narrow, hard bed, clothes off, kissing, stroking, and murmuring their love for each other in tones of mingled passion and disbelief. 

It had been what, four weeks? They were taking things slow and easy, one step at a time, not yet sure where this new turn in their relationship was going to take them. From kisses and caresses they had progressed to the next phase, but they had stopped short of that final step, the one that would have meant, in effect, that they belonged to each other from that moment forward. 

As much as he longed to possess Fraser, or be possessed by him, Ray simply wasn't sure of the Mountie yet. And that was why, even now, despite the bliss of heated skin against heated skin, despite the long, shuddering gasps of pleasure that Fraser's loving hands elicited from him as they caressed the peach-cleft between his buttocks, despite the delicious, oh-God-help-me-I'm- going-to-explode sensation caused by Fraser's hot lips on his straining, swollen shaft, Ray felt part of his mind refusing to yield. 

His body yielded, however, and after Fraser had swallowed Ray's essence and then come, whimpering in ecstasy, in Ray's expertly stroking hands, the two of them lay in silence, chest to chest, spent shaft against spent shaft, for some time. 

Ray opened his eyes to peer at Fraser. He wanted to make sure that he wasn't asleep before he broached the subject that was burning through his mind like one end of a lit dynamite fuse. 

"You know, Benny, there's something really bothers me every time I think about it." 

Fraser stirred sleepily in his arms, and Ray felt the tiny rush of air against his face as Fraser spoke. 

"What's that, Ray?" 

"That time our plane crashed, up north, and we were lost in the woods." 

"Oh, yes. You had to lead me around because I was blind, and then carry me because I couldn't walk." 

"Yeah...and that night, by the campfire, you called me Steve.'" 

"That bothers you?" The sleepiness had disappeared from Fraser's voice and he lifted his head to look at Ray. "Why?" 

"Because. Because when we were out in the woods and I was taking care of you, carrying you around, trying to figure out where we were going because you couldn't see, and on top of everything else having to worry about that criminal coming after us--you seemed to think it was someone else doing all this for you, not me." 

"Ray!" Fraser, apparently thoroughly awake now, sat up, looking horrified. "Ray, are you jealous? Please! I was concussed, remember, not really responsible for what I was saying." 

"But still..." Abandoning the idea of rest, Ray sat up too. "I want to be first with you, Benny, and I'm not. I mean..." He paused, not sure how to explain tactfully what he did mean. It wouldn't be fair to remind Benny of how he'd gulped down all the water in their one water bottle because he was dehydrated, not realizing or caring that Ray and Dief needed water too. Of Fraser not appreciating how hard it was to carry a hefty man over your shoulder while trying to pick your way through the forest, afraid all the time you were walking around in a circle and not getting anywhere near safety; of having to keep an eye on a wolf who was clearly displeased by having to transport goods like an ordinary pack animal. 

Not to mention that Ray had saved Benny from walking over the edge of a cliff. Ray himself could hardly articulate what he felt: the gist of it was that he'd been there for Benny, proven himself utterly loyal and devoted, on this and other occasions, and yet his was not the name Benny spoke in the disorientation of concussion. 

"What exactly was Steve to you, Benny?" 

Fraser sighed, leaned back against the headboard, and scooped Ray into his arm, so that Ray's head rested against his shoulder. "We were lovers years ago, you know that." 

"Yeah, you told me that much when we were rafting down that river." 

"Yes, because you insisted. A gentleman never breathes a word of his previous, um, relationships to his lover, but you were so adamant..." 

"Tell me again how you met." 

"Very well, Ray. He came to see me in the hospital after I'd been beaten up by the seal hunters for spying on them. I went with their party as a scout, but what I was really doing was observing their activities so I could report on them. There was a fifteen-year period when it was illegal to hunt baby harp seals, as you probably know." 

"Okay, okay, so he came to see you in the hospital. Then what happened?" 

"I was utterly alone, friendless, and badly injured. Both my grandparents were ailing by that time, and my father was away. Steve took me into his home to live with him until my injuries healed. He was wonderful to me at a time when I needed it." 

"And after he took you to his home, he took you to his bed." 

"Yes, Ray." 

"What was the attraction there, Benny?" Ray so jealous he didn't care whether or not Benny knew it. 

"The affection, the love he showed me, Ray. It felt good to be in the arms of someone who loved me. Until I met Steve, the only time I felt arms around me was when I hugged myself." 

Pain stabbed Ray through the heart. Here was Benny, whose beauty probably made the angels weep for sheer joy, and he'd had no one to hug him? 

"My grandparents were not very demonstrative, you see. They were old and set in their ways when I was born, and when I came to live with them, they expected me to adjust to them, rather than the other way around." 

"And your father?" 

"He was away a great deal." 

"And when he was home, did he hug you? Bounce you on his knee? Ruffle your hair when he walked by?" 

"Not that I remember. Sometimes, when I tried to hug him, he pushed me away and told me to be a little man." 

The strangled sound Ray uttered made Fraser look at him with an expression of puzzlement. 

"What's wrong, Ray?" 

" _That's_ wrong!" Ray said, so furious he felt ready to have a stroke. "That whole setup! A little motherless boy, and they couldn't bring themselves to hug you? God, Benny!" 

He wrapped his arms around Fraser, and began to drop soft kisses all over Fraser's hair and face. "I'll make it up to you, Benny, I'll give you all the hugs and kisses you never got as a kid. God, even though I had a lousy Pop, at least my mother loved me, and so did all my aunts and uncles and grandparents. I always had plenty of affection when I was growing up." 

"I love you, Ray." Fraser kissed him. 

But Ray could not let it go at that. "Do you love me more than you loved him? How did it end, Benny? What made you and Steve break up?" 

"Well, I healed after several months, and then I went to the RCMP Academy to continue my training as a member. And Steve went on with his work. He's an engineer." 

"And you never saw him again." Ray was willing to accept that: let bygones be bygones. 

"Well, that's not quite true, Ray. I did see him again...a couple of years later." "And what happened?" 

"Don't make me tell you that, Ray. You'll just get upset." 

"Benny." Ray wriggled out of Fraser's arm and looked him full in the face. "You have to tell me. I have to know what this guy meant to you. Like--how much do I have to worry about? What if you bumped into him again, when I wasn't around for some reason? Tell me what happened, Benny, if you love me." 

Fraser sighed. "Oh, very well, Ray, if you put it like that. It happened when I was waiting around in Whitehorse..." 

* * * * * * * * *

The blizzard that October came as a surprise to a great many people: to the weather station in Whitehorse, which liked to brag that its cold was a _dry_ cold, because the city had relatively modest annual precipitation; to the hoteliers who relied heavily on convention business during the autumn; and to those who had expected an easy journey through the city, on their way to somewhere else. 

One of those was Benton Fraser, 20 years old and not long out of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police Academy in Regina. Dispatched by his superiors to a new posting in Mayo, a five-hour drive from Whitehorse, Fraser was making his way there when the blizzard struck in mid-afternoon. 

Not even a four-wheel-drive vehicle was proof against this weather. Having listened to the weather forecast on the way in to the city, Fraser knew that he would have to find accommodation for the night. After he'd parked the jeep in the underground parking garage downtown and hoisted his gear onto his back, he made the rounds of the local hotels only to learn, to his extreme dismay, that rooms in his price range were unavailable. The only accommodation left was at the Sheffield, the most luxurious hotel in Whitehorse. 

Inside the hotel, Fraser raised stricken eyes to meet those of the desk clerk. "Oh dear, that's very much out of my price range, I'm afraid. Can you recommend a family in Whitehorse who might open its doors to a police officer in need?" 

The desk clerk, a motherly woman with erratically dyed red hair, looked at him sympathetically. "Look, laddie, we have a small room in the back for people who are special visitors. We could let you have that. And in return, perhaps you'd like to stroll around our hotel lobby, and pop into the dining room and the bar, just to show yourself in your uniform? Then our guests would be reassured that the hotel is devoted to security. What do you think, eh?" 

Fraser looked down at the brown uniform, which by some curious chance happened to fit him so smartly that it almost looked tailor-made. Although he had little personal vanity, he was aware that his appearance was such that the RCMP would not be ashamed to acknowledge him as a member of its ranks. "Of course, ma'am," he said. "I'd be delighted to, er, stroll around and keep an eye on things. When may I see the room?" 

"I'll take you up there myself," the lady promised. She summoned a bellhop to take her place for a few minutes, then showed Fraser upstairs.. 

He was delighted: the room was small, but perfectly adequate to his needs and it had its own bathroom en suite. After he had thanked his benefactress, she left him to unpack. He did so, and decided to enjoy the facilities the room offered. 

Two hours later, showered and rested, he descended to the lobby in the hope of finding a cup of tea. The desk clerk saw to it that his tea arrived in less than a quarter of an hour. He smiled at her, raising his teacup in salute; she smiled back and left him to it. 

Afterwards he rose and strolled through the ground floor of the hotel as asked. In the reception area he looked through the windows, but could see nothing but darkness and whirling snow. In the dining room, it was too early yet for dinner; but the bar held a rowdy assortment of people stranded by the blizzard and evidently determined to make the best of it by boozing it up. 

Fraser walked quickly through the bar, too shy to make eye contact with the patrons, and was turning to walk out again, when suddenly he heard an exclamation behind him and felt a slap on his back. 

"Fraser! Well, I'll be damned! Imagine meeting you here!" 

He whirled around at the sound of that well-remembered voice, and gazed in stupefaction at the man standing in front of him. "Steve!" 

Steve Richmond grinned. Slightly taller than Fraser, he still had the same easy smile, the same air of being perfectly at home wherever he found himself; in which he differed from Fraser, who only felt truly at home in the wilderness. 

Studying him, Fraser saw that Steve was even more handsome than he remembered. He looked trim and athletic, as always--Steve loved the outdoors, and was never happier than when raising hell in his small, fast boat in the summer--and his summer tan had not yet faded. His friend was looking at him so intently that Fraser could feel a blush beginning, somewhere around his ears. 

"I was on my way to my new post," he said by way of explanation. "What are you doing here?" 

Steve shrugged. The burgundy cashmere sweater he wore set off his olive skin and dark eyes, and Fraser could not help noticing how the fine, soft wool clung to Steve's shoulders and chest as if it enjoyed hugging him. "I've been here giving a paper on a new design for oil rigs. I was supposed to leave this afternoon, but my plane was grounded, so now I'm just waiting around in Whitehorse." 

Fraser smiled. "So am I." 

"Have dinner with me, Ben." 

The look Steve gave him was electric and Fraser felt his stomach muscles tighten; just so had Steve looked at him two years ago when he'd taken Ben into his home, his heart, and his bed. Just remembering the affection Steve had showered on him had the power to touch Fraser's heart. He must accept Steve's invitation--the memories were too strong, and too cherished, to allow him to do otherwise. 

The hotel restaurant offered an ambitious menu for such a small city and, true to form, Steve ordered the most expensive dinner available for Fraser and himself. 

"So tell me," Steve said, spearing a piece of perfectly grilled steak and pausing, fork in mid-air, to look at Fraser, "is the RCMP what you expected? Are you happy?" 

The look in Steve's brown eyes told Fraser that the answer he hoped for was, " _No, I don't like it as much as I thought I would, and all I really want is to come back to you,_ " but the painful honesty that was Fraser's salient characteristic forbade him to speak words that were untrue. As gently as he could, he said, "It's everything I've dreamed about since I was a small boy, watching my father leave for a posting, Steve. I've always wanted to be like him. It's not an easy life, but it suits me." And then, sensing his friend's disappointment, he added, softly, "Not that I haven't missed you: I have. I _do_. Whenever I think of you, it's always with gratitude and affection. You know that, Steve." 

Steve smiled, a small smile that said he accepted that their affair belonged to the past. "Well, I just wanted to make sure. I think of you, too. Not as much now as when you first left..." 

Fraser lowered his eyes, not wanting to see the pain in Steve's expression . When they'd parted a year and a half ago, it had been amicably: Steve was too good and generous a man to begrudge Fraser his chance to follow the career he'd always wanted. But it had still been painful, as much for what they had not said to each other as for what they had. For Steve, too, was ambitious, in his own career as an engineer, and the projects he worked on meant a great deal to him--too much to follow Fraser to one godforsaken RCMP posting after another in the Territory, or the Territories, or anywhere else in the wilds of Canada. 

"...but once in a while. I often remember the good times we had." 

Fraser looked up quickly, wondering exactly what Steve meant. Could he possibly mean the good times they'd had in bed--or did he mean the good times out of it? 

Steve grinned, and the twinkle in his eyes told Fraser his first thought had been correct. He smiled back, unwillingly, while the hot blood ran up into his cheeks and Steve's smile broadened. 

Steve leaned forward and said in a low voice, "I love it. I love when you blush like a schoolboy, and those dimples you think no one knows about show up at the corners of your lips. You haven't changed, Ben. Still sweet, still shy, still...." 

Steve sat back abruptly. 

"Still what?" Fraser prompted. 

"Never mind. Would you like coffee?" 

"I'd love some, thank you. Listen to that." 

A momentary lull in the clink of cutlery and the hum of voices in the dining room revealed the howl of the wind outside. Steve shivered. 

"I'm glad we're not out in it. Waiter!" 

When the waiter arrived, Steve said smoothly before Fraser could interrupt him, "Coffee for two in my room, please. Suite 5B. I'll have an espresso, and what about you, Fraser? Do you still like caf latt?" 

"Yes, please." Fraser felt himself blushing still further. Steve wanted their coffee served in his room? Well, perhaps he was merely being considerate of his fellow guests. After all, with the hotel filled to capacity, the dining room staff would surely be needing their table to serve dinner to other hungry people. 

After Steve signed for the dinner bill, the two took the elevator to his suite on the fifth floor. When he followed his friend into the suite Fraser could not help exclaiming at the luxury. "Steve! All this for one person?" 

Steve had not only a bedroom but a living room, both equipped with television sets. Fraser heaved a sigh of relief: Steve evidently meant to entertain him in the living room, so there would be no suggestion of anything...happening. 

Steve shrugged and closed the curtains against the white fury raging outside the window. "I'm one of the "idea" guys at my company--in fact, they're paying me a lot more than they probably want to, to keep me from signing on with someone else. So when I travel, I get the best." 

"So I see." Fraser turned from studying the furnishings--clearly, the best Whitehorse had to offer--to look at his friend. "You're doing very well, then. I'm glad." 

Steve smiled, opened his mouth to reply, but a knock at the door forestalled whatever he'd been about to say. "Coffee," he said, going over to the door. 

Fraser sipped his. It was hot, strong, and deliciously flavored, with a creamy aftertaste. A thought crossed his mind, unbidden: _like Steve himself._ Startled, he jerked and nearly dropped his cup. 

"Hey, Ben, what's the matter?" 

In two strides Steve was inside Fraser's personal space, gently removing the coffee cup from Fraser's fingers--fingers gone suddenly cold. 

"Ben," Steve breathed in his ear, and suddenly Steve's lips were warm on his, and his arms were around Fraser's chest, pressing Fraser close. 

And Fraser melted under that kiss, eagerly accepted the tentative thrusts of Steve's tongue inside his mouth, wrapped his arms around Steve, and ground his lower body against Steve's groin. 

When they pulled apart again, Steve's face was flushed. "Let's get this off," he said, and began to unbutton Fraser's uniform jacket. When Fraser shrugged out of it, revealing dark suspenders against the starched tan expanse of the uniform shirt, Steve blinked. 

"You are the most beautifully made man I've ever seen," he said. "Those broad shoulders, that narrow waist of yours... God, you are still so desirable, Ben! Let me make love to you tonight, just for old times' sake..." 

Fraser was unable to utter a word, but his body, which remembered all too well how Steve had pleasured it in the past, spoke for him. Steve drew Fraser into his arms again, and was just beginning to cover Fraser's mouth with his own, when he suddenly stopped and chuckled. "If I'm not mistaken, you've got a hard-on that rivals mine!" 

Fraser could never remember, afterwards, the details of how he and Steve peeled out of their clothes and fell into the king-size bed. He was only conscious of one thing, that the arms that held him, the hard hot shaft that pressed against his own, the hands that caressed him and the voice that whispered love-words in his ear, felt like a haven against the world's harsh weather, literally and metaphorically. Not since he and Steve had parted, a year and a half ago, had anyone held him like this, kissed him, wrapped strong arms and legs around him as if to keep him safe. At last, worn out by the stress of the day and the rigors of lovemaking, he fell asleep with his head on Steve's shoulder, just as he used to in days gone by. 

The next morning brought a return to the workaday world, of arrangements to be made, luggage to be packed, goodbyes to be said. 

Fraser rose first, showered in Steve's bathroom, returned to the bedroom to dress under Steve's thoughtful gaze. 

"Ben...thank you for last night." 

Fraser looked up from putting on his shoes and smiled. 

Steve sat up. "I wish it could have been different with us...but I know how much your career means to you." 

Fraser nodded. "I'll always be proud to have known you, Steve. And you'll always have a special place in my heart." 

"As you will in mine. Fraser, no one who's known you could ever forget you." 

Fraser felt emotion closing up his throat. If he had to speak just now, the words would come out in a ragged sob. So for the last time, he approached his former lover and kissed him lightly on the lips, not minding the early-morning dark stubble on Steve's jaw. Steve was never anything less than perfect in Fraser's eyes. 

Then he lifted a hand in farewell and let himself out of the suite. 

* * * * * * * * * * *

"So," Ray said. He hadn't liked hearing about how Steve and Benny felt about each other, but at least it was out in the open. "Tell me one thing. Did you and Steve ever go all the way?" 

Fraser sighed. "If you mean what I think you mean, no, we never did. At first my health wouldn't allow it--after all, my pelvis was broken--but later, we felt that doing that would mean total commitment for both of us. And for the reasons I told you, we both felt it was better to part before we reached the point of no return." 

Fear licked at Ray's mind: he and Benny had not yet made that final commitment, either. If something were to separate them now--oh, nothing permanent, but for a month, say, if Ray were sent out of town on a special case, or if Benny were sent up north for some kind of peculiar RCMP training in how to decode walrus language or whatever, could someone take Benny from him? 

"Benny," he said, putting his hand on his lover's face, turning it so that Fraser would have to look at him, "will you make that commitment with me? Now?" 

Fraser stared at him, eyes as dark and still as a northern forest on a calm night. "You mean you want us to--" 

"I want to make love to you," Ray said. He pulled Fraser close, kissed the man's soft, inviting lips. "I want to be part of you, in you, Benny, I want us to belong to each other." 

"Ray," Fraser whispered, so softly that Ray had to concentrate to hear him, "you're jealous of Steve. I haven't seen him for years, you know that." 

"Benny, never mind the reason, will you or won't you?" 

"Yes, I will... " 

Ray reached for him, but Fraser held him off. "....but not tonight." 

"Why not?" 

"Because you want this for the wrong reason. It's as if you're trying to prove something to Steve, who isn't even a factor in our relationship as far as I'm concerned." 

"Well, he's a factor to me," Ray muttered, turning away. But almost immediately he felt Benny's arm slipping around his shoulders as Fraser gave him an affectionate squeeze. 

"Ray, let's commit to each other in a week or so, when we've had time to think about what it really means to both of us." 

"All right," Ray said, and sighed. "But don't keep me waiting too long, Benny, will ya?" 

* * * * * * * * *

His Benny, bless him, did not keep him waiting too long. 

Did not keep him waiting even forty-eight hours, in fact. 

On Saturday, one of those unexpectedly warm early spring afternoons, Fraser and Ray took Dief out for a run in the park, followed by a picnic. Ray could feel the bond between himself and his lover growing stronger than ever as they sat on the blanket he'd pulled out of the Riv's trunk, eating the sandwiches Mrs. Vecchio had packed. 

Ray swallowed the last of his sandwich with appreciation. "This beats furry night crawlers all to hell," he said, and Fraser threw back his head and laughed. 

God, Benny was beautiful: the pink in his flushed cheeks echoed the too-early, too-intense heat of this spring day. It wasn't supposed to be this hot in Chicago in April, but the sudden, unseasonable warmth was bringing out the color in some of the trees--some of which, like Benny, had turned pink. 

Ray ached with need and longing. He wanted Benny so badly, wanted to take him in his arms and beg his lover to join with him in the ultimate act of fulfillment. Fraser seemed to catch something of Ray's unspoken longing, because he grew suddenly quiet, and began to gather up the picnic things to put them back in the Riv. 

Back at the apartment twenty minutes later, after opening all the windows to the sunlit spring afternoon, Fraser turned from seeing Dief off out of the kitchen window and said, simply, "I'm ready." 

Ray's heart leaped for joy. His Benny, with the light behind him and the sweetness of the April breeze ruffling his hair, was ready to be his, in a way that no other lover of Benny's had ever experienced. 

"Benny," he said, pulling his lover into his arms, feeling the warmth of Fraser through the flannel shirt, dipping his head to kiss the deliciously sculpted hollow of Benny's throat. 

Benny sighed with pleasure, caressing Ray's back, kneading the skin beneath the silk jacket with his strong hands. 

"Ray, my love, Ray..." 

And then there was no more talk, as Ray sought the Mountie's lips and covered them in a kiss that lasted a hundred years. Ray held Fraser in his arms, spinning him around the room until they reached the bed and fell on top of it. Benny lay back on the pillow, watching as Ray peeled off his jacket, heeled off his shoes, then dived to land beside him. 

Ray unbuttoned Benny's shirt, dragged it off him, dropped it beside the bed. Benny, already aroused, with half-shut eyes, hazy with desire, arched his back as Ray slipped one arm beneath him. Ray bent to taste Benny's nipples, which grew hard under his tongue; the sound of the Mountie's moans fed Ray's own passion, and his hand went to his waistband to unzip his slacks. 

God, Fraser's skin was hot, and his heartbeat was strong enough to power the entire Yukon for a week. Once divested of his own clothes, Ray took off the rest of Fraser's to find that the Mountie was already proudly erect, and rapidly losing control as he pulled Ray on top of him, covering Ray's face with kisses. 

Ray felt delirious, overwhelmed with the glory of having his lover in his arms, ready to be his. He'd never felt for anyone what he felt for Fraser; certainly, lust, love, and longing had all played a part in his past relationships, with women, but with his friend, his lover, it was as if they were two halves of the same person. His heart beat in Benny's chest, Benny's moans were Ray's own, and Benny was now so close to the point of climax that Ray knew it was time to reach for the supplies in the pocket of the jacket he'd laid beside the bed. It took only a minute to coat his fingers with lube; then, lying face to face with his lover, he french-kissed him while he slid one finger into the tightly closed opening between the cleft of Benny's ass. 

Ben's moans grew more frenzied as Ray, finding that the first finger was sliding in and out easily, added another while he continued to french-kiss him. Judging him ready at last, Ray gently urged Fraser on to his belly. 

"Hurry, Ray," Fraser said into the pillow that muffled his voice. 

Ray unrolled the condom on to his erect penis, then positioned himself to enter Benny. Benny's ass cheeks were pearl-white ovals, and Ray reveled in their softness as he pushed his way inside. For an instant Fraser froze; then Ray felt him relax and knew that Fraser was once again using his remarkable control over his body to help matters along. 

Deeper and deeper he went, until Benny's internal muscles began to grip him and he could feel himself losing it. "Ah, Benny," he gasped, and then he could not control the cry that tore from his lips--"Ben-NYYYY!" 

"Aah! Oh! Oh, Ray!" Fraser writhed beneath him, shuddered, and then lay still. Ray rested his face on Benny's shoulder as he waited for his breathing to return to normal. His chest seemed glued to Benny's sweat-slippery back. 

Fraser shifted so that he could roll over and look at Ray. "I love you. I love you." 

"Christ, Benny, that was...oh, God, it was...I love you too." 

Ray kissed the tip of Benny's nose, after which the Mountie opened his eyes to look searchingly at him. 

"Are you still jealous of Steve?" 

"Not any more, Benny. You and I belong together now. Steve belongs to the past." 

"He belonged to the past the minute I met you, Ray," Fraser said. 

"Understood," Ray said, and the smile Benny gave him told him that, where Fraser's love was concerned, he had nothing to worry about, for the rest of their lives. 

**The End**

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Copyright March 1998 by EvenSteven. All characters are the property of Alliance. 


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